


Calming the Turbulent Seas

by Destux



Series: SDR2 Hinanami Week Submissions [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Hinanami Week, Temper Tantrums, this is really depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destux/pseuds/Destux
Summary: Day 3: You’re a part of us tooStrong winds often herald a great storm to come.However, strong winds, too, can push the storm away until it dies down into a gentle downpour of tears.





	Calming the Turbulent Seas

**Author's Note:**

> Yoohoo! I’m gonna participate in another event! I’ll see if I can share this once I can get into my Tumblr account.

The night carried a much more biting coldness than usual. Every time the cool tropical breeze blew, the wallowing boy used what little protection he had to stop his body from shivering so much. One might think that going outside when the night was mercilessly cold was a bad idea, and frankly, in Hajime’s case, it was unlike him; but he found it more welcoming and soothing for some reason. 

_…You’re just another fanboy who admires Hope’s Peak…_

When Nagito had said that to him, it felt like a dagger had stabbed him from the back and made its way through his heart. It _fucking_ hurts. The truth hurts like a _bitch_ and that wasn’t even the worst of it. All this time, he thought he was special. At one point, he wanted Nagito’s crazy rambling about him to be true - that he was a symbol of hope like the others, that he was _special_. 

“Damn it…” he felt his chest heave upwards, as if it was trying to squirt out the tears from his heart to his eyes. “…Damn it all!”

He fell to his knees and repeatedly stabbed the sandy ground with an imaginary knife with fervor. Each time he did, he shouted insults at himself, calling himself, “Talentless”, “Boring”, “Ordinary” etc.. He felt so weak. He felt so vulnerable. All he can do is cry to himself and continue to bury his old naïve self down under. A new side surfaced from him.

He hoped that his thumping on the ground would be powerful enough to cause some might earthquake so he can feel better.

_…But you’re just not talented enough to make a difference, aren’t you?_

His pummeling on the ground weakened. He grit his teeth and used both his hands and head to smash the mound into a flat hardness, sending the sand flying out in all directions. It went to his eyes as well, making the tears flow out even more. The beach just in front of him sent out a raging wave to slap him. The saltwater mixed with his tears slid under his forehead and into his nose and mouth. In the middle of his weeping, he would cough out the water and resume pouring out all his emotions.

His sobbing them turned into an outcry of immense suffering. Any bystander nearby would’ve assumed that somebody was getting murdered. That wouldn’t even be too far off; Hajime was busy murdering himself from the inside after all. 

As his cries turned into wailing, the waves rampaged even more harshly. Nature, itself, took part in hurting the pitiful boy. With how high the waves were getting, his hair was getting damp and cluttered with wet sand that dropped over his cheeks like someone pouring a bucket of salty mud over him-

He didn’t care.

People without talent don’t deserve to live among the greatest. He was meant to be filthy trash, with the purpose of either being discarded or recycled for an even greater purpose; but the material won’t matter one bit, because the attention would go to the architect. Who cares about the block used? A block will always be a block. Trash will always be trash.

He definitely did not deserve to live with the other Ultimates like they were his equal. 

Hajime wanted to cry and shout more but his throat was already too weak. His voice came out hoarse and dry. Not even he was the Ultimate Crybaby. Regardless, the hatred and disgust he had for his own self could not be quelled by human limitations. 

And like a blanket, something fuzzy and warm covered his back partially. 

“Hinata-kun, what are you doing here…?”

Shit.

SHIT!

Why did it have to be her who finds him like this?! 

“…Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up…”

The girl behind him tried to pull him away from the shore by pulling from under his stomach. Unfortunately for her, he was too heavy to carry back. 

She huffed after a sharp exhale. “…Stop making this more difficult, Hinata-kun. I’m getting…” she tried to stifle a long yawn despite the frustration embedded within her sleepy voice. “…Sleepy…”

On one hand, he wanted to stay in this pitiful dogeza position for longer but on the other, he didn’t want to be too hard on her. Obviously, she must have heard him screaming and thought that someone was getting killed. He eventually decided on the latter and stood back up, after trying to fight the atrophy in his legs for kneeling for a long period of time. 

Without question, Chiaki grabbed his hand and dragged him further away from the unrelenting shore. After dragging him under some random palm tree, she pulled him down and used the blanket on his back, which was her jacket, to wipe his face and dry his hair. Her jacket smelled faintly of grapes and strawberries, though the strawberry scent stood out more. Despite his depressed state, he could not hide the warmth from his face, which was luckily covered by her jacket, as she was super close and personal with his personal space. The jacket came off his face for a moment while Chiaki observed his state with calm yet scrutinizing eyes.

“…You look horrible, Hinata-kun. Did the trial affect you that much?”

She gazed at his eyes with a worried look. The urge to cry and confess everything to her became stronger than ever but he did everything in his power to resist that urge. Besides, the trial should be the least of her concerns for him right now. 

Of course, that would be the most _ordinary_ assumption that suited someone so _ordinary_. It’s not like he could blame her. If anything, he should blame himself for being so _boring_.

_That’s right… I’m just a common-minded simpleton. You shouldn’t even be here taking care of me, Nanami._

As much as he wanted to voice those words towards her, he can’t muster the courage to do so. He secretly wanted, at the very least, Chiaki to be the one there for him. She was sweet and kind to him. Even if she was an Ultimate, he wanted the person behind the talent. 

He wanted Chiaki Nanami, that gentle, caring and innocent Chiaki Nanami, to not go away.

He didn’t want his lack of talent to separate them both.

His tears resurfaced and he grasped her body and cried on her shoulder. After a while, he felt her hand pat him lightly on the back as she embraced him with her exposed arms to calm him down, but to no avail. He sobbed even louder than before and he tightened his hug. 

“There there… Just let it all out…”

She didn’t seem to fazed by how different he was compared to before. Who could’ve thought that the one who had the courage to explain the horrible deeds of their classmates ** ~~not his~~** in perfect detail, all the while giving the others the courage to cast their votes on them, would break down to tears? Definitely not her, that’s for sure. She always assumed that he was fine all this time but he knew that Chiaki wasn’t that adept at picking up the emotions of other people and comprehending them; and yet, despite that difficulty of hers, here she was, doing all she can to comfort Hajime…

…Even if she already knew his secret…

Eventually, he released his clutches and she released hers as well. 

“Hey hey… Do you want to talk about it? It’s bad if you keep things inside… I think…”

…Perceptive, as usual. “It’s just… Look, I just can’t stop thinking about what Komaeda said about me.”

“Hmm… is it about you being just a talentless Reserve Course student?”

Hearing Chiaki say it so nonchalantly made it feel extremely worse than when Nagito had said it. “Y-Yeah… I mean, what he said is true, isn’t it? I don’t know how I managed to end up with you guys. I’m leagues below you all. Haha… I guess that explains why I can’t understand why you all seem so different to me, huh. It’s because…I’m the one who’s different, not you.”

It’s cruel. It’s maddening. This killing school trip seems like it was designed to target him specifically. Why else would World Ender, or the Future Foundation( _Argh! Who cares about who they are?!_ ), include a nobody like him anyway? Some encouraged the others to form connections with each other to prevent a killing while some chose not to, and Hajime chose to try to be connected with others. Maybe this was what Monokuma and Monomi had planned for him. Those insane bears must have expected him to try to befriend the other Ultimates under the pretense that he, too, was an Ultimate like them, only for the truth to sting much more when it comes. He mourned his “friends’” deaths as if they were normal human beings like him. He even had the audacity to continue living for their sakes when his life is just as disposable and inconsequential as the talentless majority. Their lives were worth more than his. How can he fulfill an impossible feat such as living for their sakes?

Chiaki must have sensed him deep in thought and opted to sit down beside him. “So, you feel distant towards the others? That seems lonely… I think…”

Now that he thought about it, she was right. He truly felt alone in this tropical island, with no friend to relate to anymore.

She continued. “But that’s not what they said, right? They don’t think like Komaeda-kun, right?”

“Well…” he clicked his tongue. “They don’t, but…”

“Then that means… it won’t matter, Hinata-kun. You being talentless won’t matter to them.”

“It’s not that simple, Nanami… I’m different from you all. It just doesn’t feel right if I continue to treat you as my friend…”

“What about it doesn’t feel right? We’re all different from each other but that’s normal, right? Different is normal, right?”

He couldn’t argue back against that logic. He relented and looked down on the ground between his legs.

“See? It’s not that complicated, Hinata-kun. Just remember that you’re a part of us too. Your lack of talent doesn’t matter. You’ve been helpful, kind and understanding to us. That speaks more than just being a talentless person… I think.”

“I…” he stopped himself and shook his head. “…No, you’re right. You’re absolutely right, Nanami. We’re still in this together as friends.” he slowly placed his hand on top of Chiaki’s. “We’ll get out of this island, _together_.”

She smiled as she blinked her eyes sleepily at him. “Yeah… let’s get you guys out…as soon as possible…”

Not waiting for his reply, her head fell down on his lap and dozed off into a deep sleep. He sighed in relief and looked up at the bluish-purple hue of the night sky above. He could hear her gently snoring and feel her drool staining his pants but it was more calming than unnerving. He thought about what she said.

Was it all…really that simple? Was he just complicating his problems? More importantly, does talent really matter? It doesn’t help too that Chiaki sometimes has a problem generalizing her thoughts into something that everybody can understand. However, he can tell that she tried her best. Maybe, this was her way of telling him that talent wasn’t the goal? If so, then what was the end goal of life? What would make it more interesting? Does she know?

_I guess I’ll find out once we get off this island safe and sound…_

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with the angst...
> 
> _*sigh*_
> 
> I gotta stop making myself cry tbh.
> 
> And to think that it all started when I saw a picture of Chiaki “left hanging” like Sayori...


End file.
